Quentin Has A Secret
by NephilimEQ
Summary: An old friend of Quentin's is in town looking for a serial killer...and discovers something about Quentin Lance that even Quentin Lance didn't know. PLEASE READ & REVIEW! Love my reviewers!
1. Chapter 1

**Quentin Has A Secret**

**1**

Quentin Lance was tired and no closer to catching the Hood, which was making him pissed.

He threw the folder down on his desk with a huff of anger, and then scowled as two cops at their desks gave him strange looks, and they quickly turned their eyes away. He sat down on the edge of his desk and ran a hand through his hair, trying to figure out where to start next…

…and then he heard an accented voice he hadn't heard in nearly five years.

"Quentin Lance…you haven't changed one bit."

He looked up and a broad smile crossed his lips, something that was rare, and immediately left his desk and enveloped the man before him in a hug.

"Robert Banner! What the hell are _you_ doing here?"

The pale-haired British man, who was four inches shorter than him, slowly pulled back from the hug, gave him a broad smile, and then tilted his head to the side.

"Well…I have a new job, and part of it has led me here."

"And what new job would that be?"

Robert smiled and said, "Interpol." Quentin let out a low whistle of surprise, and Robert continued. "We believe a serial killer from London has made his way to Starling City, and they sent me to look into it as I happen to know one of the lead detectives on the force."

Quentin smiled again and said, "Yeah. You do."

Robert's smile turned slightly mischievous, and he gave Detective Lance a quick once over with his eyes and said, "Yes…I most _certainly_ do."

Quentin ducked his eyes, and then quickly glanced around the precinct, hoping that no one noticed the look and let out an inward sigh of relief, and then looked back up and gave Robert a wide smile, unable to keep from grinning.

"Good to see you again, Robert. How can I help you with the case?"

"Well, you could start by giving me everything that you have so far on the murders."

The detective nodded and stood up from where he'd been sitting _on_ his desk, and then slid into the chair _behind_ his desk, and quickly flipped through some files, trying to find the right one for his friend, eager to help him out on the case. After a moment, he said, "Aha!" and handed Robert a thick folder.

"There you go…everything we've got on the cases so far."

As he spoke, he realized that he couldn't seem to keep from smiling. No matter how hard he tried, the damn grin wouldn't leave his face.

Robert flipped through the file, his eyes completely focused on the pages in front of him, not noticing the smile on the detective's face, which was fine with Quentin, as he suddenly felt very self-conscious and looked away.

And then his phone rang.

He pulled it out of his pocket and flipped it open, answering with a clipped tone.

"Yeah? What do you want?"

There wasn't an answer, and the ring was still going. And that was when he realized that it was his _other_ phone. The one that was his only connection to the Hood. He quickly snapped his own personal phone shut and slipped his hand back into his coat and pulled the other phone from a hidden inside pocket.

He said nothing as he picked it up and was rewarded with a low, raspy voice saying, "_So…Robert Banner is back in town. Take advantage of it, Detective. You're going to need his help catching the man who has already killed two women in two nights."_

"Wait, how do you know-"

He cut him off.

"_It doesn't matter how I know, Detective…what matters is that you have a serial killer on the loose, and a sick one at that. I can tell you this about him: he's ambidextrous and has a tattoo of a pair of scissors on the inside of his left wrist. Give Robert Banner my best."_

And with that, he hung up, leaving Quentin feeling disoriented. He was pissed off, annoyed, and grateful. Correction, he was annoyed and pissed off about the fact that he was grateful to the murderous bastard. It didn't matter how much good the man did, he was still a murderer. But it seemed he was still a decent guy and that irked him to no end.

He closed his phone and tried to ignore the inquiring look from his old friend, but Robert then said, "Who was that? A romantic interest, perhaps?"

Quentin barked out an incredulous laugh.

"Yeah, right. More like a parasitic annoyance," he said, rolling his eyes. "But it doesn't really matter. I just got us a lead."

"And that would be…?"

The detective gave Banner a smug look.

"Your serial killer has been spotted. Apparently, he's ambidextrous and has a tattoo on the inside of his left wrist of a pair of scissors. That should narrow down the search, don't you think?"

Robert nodded, crossing his arms over his chest and then said, "Yes, yes it does. However, it does not answer the many questions in my mind right now…such as, why do you have a second phone? And why, when you answered it, did you not say anything? And then, of course, the ultimate question…why is it that you say that it wasn't a romantic interest when even I know that glimmer in your eye means you like something about whoever was on the other end of that phone?"

Quentin looked at him in shock, not quite believing what he was hearing.

"Are you kidding me, Robert? That was most definitely _not_ a romantic interest-"

He cut him off, his tone severely scathing.

"Quentin, I don't like it when you lie to me, let alone anyone else, but it simply _pains_ me when I see you attempting to lie to yourself. Whoever it was on the other end of that phone obviously intrigues you in more than just a passing fancy sort of way. I _know_ you, Quentin…more so than anyone ever has."

At that, the detective flushed slightly red, and Robert continued.

"And I know that look in your eyes. You may not know it, but you are lying to yourself so well that I'm afraid that you don't even realize it's happening…"

Quentin shrugged it off and said, "Yeah, well, we don't have time for any of your psycho-analyzing right now, okay? We've got a serial killer to track down."

Robert simply nodded, and the detective sighed as the man finally let it go. Thank God. Robert could be like a dog with a bone sometimes, and he couldn't let any thoughts distract him from tracking down the serial killer that was now in Starling City. He could only hope that he would catch the Hood, as well, in the process…

And besides, Robert didn't even know what he was talking about.

He did _not_ have any interest in the Hood other than putting the man behind bars.

_But if that's true_, whispered an evil little voice in the back of his head that for some reason sounded like Oliver Queen_, then why are you hoping that phone will ring again?_

He brushed the thought to the side and got to work. He had enough problems in his head already…there wasn't any room for any more, so why was Oliver Queen now pushing his way inside of his head as well? And why wasn't he hating it as much as he should?

Again, he brushed it to the side.

Work.

He needed to work.

* * *

**Part 1/?**

**A.N. - Bonus points to anyone who knows who Robert Banner is based off of! So...how should I continue it? Should he end up having to talk to the Hood face to face? Should Robert Banner meet the Hood himself? What should come next? I'd love your input!**


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

Surprisingly enough, the information that the Hood had given him, as specific as it was, did not help them all that much. Tattoos couldn't be registered, and neither could the fact that someone was ambidextrous, so they were simply digging through international mug shots, hoping to get lucky.

Lance was getting another headache.

He rubbed his fingers across the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes, trying to block out the blur of photos beneath him.

Robert saw this and let out a long sigh.

"Getting tired, Quentin?"

Lance nodded, and pushed all of the photos over to the side, clearing the center of his desk, and then slowly lowered his head over his folded arms. What he needed was some pain killers, and some sleep…and a hot shower. Not necessarily in that order. The shower. Yeah, he could go for the shower first.

_No, the sleep,_ he thought to himself as he turned his head to get into a more comfortable position, barely able to keep his eyes open.

And then his head throbbed.

_Screw that,_ he amended. _The painkillers._

He let out a low groan, and was suddenly surprised when he felt two firm hands slide over his shoulders and begin to knead the muscles at the base of his neck. Robert. Of course. He thought about protesting for a brief moment, but decided against it the instant he felt his fingers hit the perfect spot.

"Unghhh…"

Robert let out a low chuckle that went straight down Lance's spine.

God, it had been too long.

They had been _involved_, back when Quentin had first started training for his job in Starling City. That was back when Robert had still been a part of the Starling City Force, on loan from Scotland Yard, before he had been recruited by Interpol. Robert had been intriguing and fascinating, and, well, as flexible as Quentin was at the time.

They'd had their fling and enjoyed their time together, and then Quentin had met his future wife. They kept in touch over the years, and now he was back.

And, he couldn't help but admit it to himself (which was a rarity) that he was interested.

He felt his muscles turning to liquid under Robert's ministrations, and he let out another low groan, grateful that it was in the dead of night and no one else was at the station except for the two of them.

As Robert eased his old friend's tense shoulders, he thought over what else he could do to help the man. Catching the serial killer was, of course, first and foremost on his list, but it wouldn't happen if Quentin was hopelessly distracted and exhausted.

"Quentin…"

"Hmm?"

He focused his fingers a bit further up his neck and then leaned in slightly and said, "How long has it been since you slept?"

"Uhhh…"

He chuckled again.

"That's when you know that it's been too long." He pulled back his hands and pulled the detective's chair back from his desk and turned him around to face him. He nodded his head towards a well-worn couch in the corner. "Sleep. I'll keep an eye on things and keep looking."

He knew that Quentin was tired when he went without protest to the couch, and even let Robert take his jacket for him.

Within minutes, the man was out, and Robert continued to pore through the files.

And then, at about two in the morning, a cell phone rang. Robert knew immediately that it wasn't Quentin's normal cell phone as it was still lying on his desk, complacent. Which meant it was the phone from before that he'd answered.

He slipped his hand into the coat and immediately found it in the inside lining.

He answered it.

"Hello?"

"_Robert Banner, I presume. Meet me on the roof, ten minutes."_

And with that, the man hung up. This must have been the source that Quentin had been talking to earlier in the day. Well, in that case he would do as the man had asked him and be up on the roof of the station in ten minutes.

Ten minutes later he stood on the roof of the station, having used the roof access door. It had been locked, of course, but it had been an easy pick.

Suddenly, a man joined him on the roof, his face hooded and a bow and a quiver of arrows across his back.

"Good to finally meet the famous, Robert Banner…"

He raised an eyebrow at the man's descriptive adjective.

"I wasn't aware of the fact that I was the _famous_ Robert Banner."

The hooded figure shrugged, and then the image finally snapped together in his head. A hand drawn wanted poster that was pinned to the board down in the main bullpen. On it, it had simply read: WANTED - The Hood. And, considering the high quality of artwork, he was certain that Quentin had done it himself.

Ah…so the lead detective on the case had a secret cell phone that hooked him directly to the Vigilante himself.

The Hood then said, "Your name's been floated around before, and I've heard a few stories…but that's not why I want to talk to you."

Just from the mysterious man's tone, he immediately knew what was going on.

"You want to make sure that someone's keeping an eye on Quentin," Robert said, raising an eyebrow, and crossing his hands behind his back. "Well, I don't say I blame you. The man has the tendency to drive himself too far; stretch the limits of his abilities."

The hooded figure simply nodded.

"Well, I'll see what I can do, but don't expect miracles on my part."

Again, the hooded figure nodded, and then turned to leave the building, but just as he was about to jump, his one leg bent and foot poised on the edge, he turned his head back over his shoulder and said, "I don't want him getting hurt. Not again. Not after…"

He didn't finish the sentence.

Banner helped him. "…Not after his daughter, you mean."

He didn't reply.

But then just as he dropped himself over the edge, Robert caught the words, "He doesn't deserve it."

Hmm…

Robert filed away the words for future reference, having the vague feeling that it would be important. Until then, he would do as the vigilante had asked him and keep an eye on his old friend. He was going to make sure that he took care of him.

* * *

**Part 2/?**


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

Quentin woke up and found himself on the couch. Through a cloudy fog he tried to remember how he'd gotten there, and then dimly recalled the fact that he and Robert had been there all night looking at mug shots and reading up on criminal backgrounds.

Yeah…that's right. That's what he was doing.

As he sat up he felt his back pop. And _that_ was the reason why he didn't do overnights at the precinct anymore.

He scanned his eyes over the room and saw Robert sitting at his desk, still staring at the photos.

The detective stood and walked over to stand next to his long-time friend. As he walked up to him, he realized that Robert was so engrossed with whatever was in front of him that he hadn't even heard Quentin approach. Chuckling to himself, the detective took advantage of the fact.

In a lightning fast move, he swirled the chair around and then, in a surprisingly gentle manner, pressed his lips to Robert's.

The man was at first surprised, but then gave into the kiss, and they both relished the feel of each other's kiss once more after years of absence.

Quentin pulled back slightly, but Robert's hand shot out and pulled him back into the kiss, causing the younger man to smile.

Yes, it had obviously been a long time for both of them. Especially for Quentin. Even before his daughter had been lost at sea, he and his wife had started having problems and he had not been kissed going on nearly six years. Six _long_ years.

Robert gently traced his tongue along the detective's lower lip and he gave in, and nearly moaned at the wonderful taste that greeted him.

_This_ was the man that he'd known.

The older man who had been his teacher, his friend…and his lover.

Robert Banner had a reputation for being stoic and serious and very down to earth, but because of how intimately Quentin knew him, he knew better than everyone else. The truth of the matter was that Robert Banner was restless and playful, as well as quite the dreamer.

Quentin distinctly remembered times where after they had been carousing, Robert would suggest that they go to the pier in the middle of the night for no other reason than to watch the stars, which were impossible to see from the pier anyway, in which case he would suggest that they make homemade ice cream or suggest that they take a trip to Spain. As he kissed the man for the first time in twenty-eight years, he felt all of it come rushing back.

Yes…this felt right. Not perfect, but pretty darn close to it.

They both pulled back from the kiss at the same time, both of them looking slightly dazed.

Robert shook his head in disbelief and said, "What on earth was that for?"

Quentin grinned.

"Oh, you know…I just missed you, that's all."

Had anyone in the precinct seen the grin on the detective's face at that moment, they wouldn't have believed it. It spread from ear to ear, showing off his surprisingly white teeth. A lot of people assumed that because he was a detective, he had all of the stereotypical bad habits, but the only one he had was drinking. He neither gambled nor smoked, and because of the latter, he had a smile that could melt anyone's heart, be it a woman or a man, when he used it in the right way.

Robert smiled.

"Good to see you're in a better mood, Quentin." He turned the chair back around. "In that case, you can make the two of us coffee…"

He looked at him in surprise, the smile gone, one eyebrow raised, and Robert gave him an unrepentant grin.

"What? You know I'm hopeless when it comes to making coffee. The only thing I can do is tea, and I would rather have American coffee than your dreadful _instant_ tea any day…"

With that, Quentin turned around and headed over to the coffee maker, an old Keurig, and set it up. Robert always knew how to slip one condescending complement and two insults into a sentence while still sounding completely proper and gentlemanly with his accent. It was art form of sarcasm that went above and beyond what he'd ever known anyone able to do.

As he pulled out two mugs from just under the edge of the counter, Robert said, "Oh, by the way, your _private_ phone rang at around two this morning and I had a meeting with your infamous Vigilante up on the roof."

Quentin was dimly aware of something shattering.

"Quentin? Quentin!"

He came to, still not sure if he had just heard what he _thought_ that he had just heard, and then realized that he'd dropped one of the mugs in his hand, and it lay in almost artfully arranged ceramic pieces around his feet. He knelt down and began to clean it up when Robert was suddenly at his side and pulling him back up to his feet.

"Leave it for now. Dear lord, had I known that you were going to have _that_ reaction…well, let's just say I wouldn't have even _mentioned_ it, but I thought you should know…"

Quentin was still in a bit of a haze, but then slowly nodded and said, "Yeah…actually, I'm glad you told me. In fact…I'm kinda glad that now someone besides me knows the truth."

Robert led him over to the chair that he'd previously been sitting in and put him in it, giving him a serious look.

"You mean the fact that you've been in touch with the Vigilante for at least three months?" he asked, arching an eyebrow at him and crossing his arms over his chest, sitting on the edge of Harry's desk, looking as intimidating as he'd been when he had been a beat cop.

"How…how'd you know _that_?"

Robert rolled his eyes.

"I'm not an _imbecile_, you know. The phone is a trac phone and has minutes that are regulated, and there's only been one purchase of minutes on it, and since you're down to less than a month left on minutes, it must have been a four month plan because that's the largest that one can purchase for just a single payment."

Yeah. It seemed he was still as sharp as ever, too.

Quentin let out a sigh and ran a hand through his hair.

"Yeah…I've been in touch with him. Laurel had the phone before I did, and I confiscated it off of her. And then I…forgot to report it to the department."

Robert raised an eyebrow at that, but Quentin ducked his head and ran his hand through his hair a second time, somehow making it even more mussed than it had been before from where he'd already tangled it earlier after sleeping on the couch.

"Forgot to _report_…hmmm, forgot to report or chose not to share?"

At this, he stood up from the chair and let out a sigh.

"Look," he said, sounding defensive. "I already tried to trace it on my own and got nowhere, so I decided that it was best that someone had, you know, at least a _connection_ to the Vigilante, and at least I get a heads up when he's about to go after someone. He also gives me 'anonymous' tips from time to time. As much as I hate the guy, he's helped me out…but that won't stop me from arresting the murderous bastard when I get the chance."

His voice had gone dangerously low and Robert simply nodded, curious about the relationship these two shared.

It was layered with several different emotions and seemed to be quite complicated.

Just as his thoughts started to wander down those particular paths, the two of them were suddenly interrupted by a young man walking into the precinct, looking almost smug as he approached Quentin's desk, a smirk around the young man's lips.

Quentin glared at him.

"Queen. What the hell do you want?"

* * *

**Part 3/?**


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

Oliver Queen just grinned back at him, ignoring the glare that the man sent his way, and approached the Interpol agent, one hand outstretched.

"Hi, I'm Oliver Queen, a…well, an _acquaintance_ of Detective Lance. And you are…?"

Cordially shaking the young man's hand, Robert replied with a smile of his own, taken in by the young man and his charming demeanor, deliberately ignoring the fact that Quentin obviously had a problem with him.

"Robert Banning. An old _friend_ of Quentin's."

Queen nodded, smiling slightly at the emphasis that he heard on the word _friend_, and then turned and looked back at the detective, a grim smile on his face, knowing that he was going to have to do this whether he wanted to or not. He actually _did_ have a legitimate reason to be here, for once.

"Detective…I was hoping to get your help, or, at least, your advice."

Lance raised an eyebrow at him in shock, not quite believing what he was hearing.

"Help? Advice? Yeah, right, sure you do, Queen. C'mon, what's your real reason for being here? Come to leave a few _more_ scars on my life?"

The venom in his words stung, and Oliver actually physically winced as they were practically spat at him and then slowly shook his head, and then uncharacteristically and quietly responded with, "No…I…I wouldn't do that to you…Not again."

There was an awkward silence, during which Robert gave his friend a slightly chastising look for his comment.

Finally, Detective Lance relented and said, "Sorry. That was…a low blow. I've…I've had a long night."

Queen just nodded and finally pressed on with the conversation.

"I…I actually really _do_ need your advice. It's, well, about some regulations on my new club. Apparently," he said, shoving his hands into his pockets, "According to the laws and regulations regarding security on a privately run business, I'm supposed to have at least one security guard for every fifteen people in my club."

Quentin, seeing that Queen was actually being serious for once, motioned for him to sit down.

He did, and then he continued.

"You see, in the evenings my club gets pretty packed. Over two hundred people, easily, which means I need at _least_ thirteen security guards…as it is, I only have three. I was wondering if you knew any good private security agencies that I could look into for hiring."

The detective raised an eyebrow at this and then glanced up at Robert, who gave him a look. He knew that look. It said, _Oh, get over yourself and _help_ the man._

Reluctantly, Quentin complied.

"Yeah…I know of a few. Here, I'll give you a list and some numbers. Just…just don't mention this to anyone, alright? I'm supposed to hate you, remember."

At this, Oliver grinned and leaned back in his chair, lifting one leg so that his foot rested on his knee, his hands on the armrests, and said, "My lips are sealed, Detective."

Unable to keep it from rising, Quentin grinned as well as he wrote down the names and numbers onto a sheet of paper. For a brief moment, the animosity that was usually thick in the air between them was cleared, and Robert was slightly surprised at what he saw in that moment.

As Quentin was finishing up, Oliver stood and looked down at the chaos covering the detective's desk and his eyes narrowed.

"Is this about the recent murders?" he asked, touching one of the photos and swiveling it in his direction with one finger.

Quentin surged to his feet, shoved the piece of paper at him, and pulled the photo back across the desk, glaring at him, his sudden urge of goodwill gone in an instant, along with the almost friendly atmosphere.

"That has nothing to do with you, Queen, so take the damn information and _go_. Got it?"

Queen just grinned at him, nodded, and then motioned with the piece of paper between his fingers and said, "Yeah. Got it, Detective. By the way, you look good. Looks like you finally took some time to get some sleep…good for you."

With that, he turned and sauntered back to the door, but then turned back around and said…

"You deserve it, Detective. You're not gonna catch the Vigilante by wearing yourself out, you know."

And with those last parting words, he walked out of the precinct, leaving Quentin slightly pissed off and Robert incredibly curious about what had just transpired in front of him. To him the whole situation had looked like…well, to be honest, like flirting. Foreplay. They had been both pressing the other person's buttons just enough to get a reaction, but not pressing it too far, and it left Robert curious as to why Quentin hated this Oliver Queen as much as he seemed to hate the Vigilante.

Speaking of…something about Queen's words seemed maddeningly familiar. It was when he had said, _"No…I, I wouldn't do that to you…Not again."_

It had been remarkably similar to the words that the Hood, or Vigilante, had said to him on the roof… _"I don't want him getting hurt. Not again…"_ Also when he had said,_ "He doesn't deserve it…"_, and then just seconds before… _"You deserve it, Detective…"_

And he had also mentioned the detective wearing himself out…_exactly_ what Robert had mentioned to the Vigilante on the roof.

Both times the wording had been the same. Two different voices, two different men…but the same concern. The same regretful and painfully reminiscent tone. Could it be…? Was it possible? As he turned it over in his head, he silently decided to look in on it himself.

If this man Queen and the Vigilante _were_ one and the same, then how had Quentin not caught it? The man was actually one of the most brilliant detectives that he'd ever worked with, and the FBI _and_ Interpol had both tried to recruit him several times in the past. He was intelligent and observant…so how had he not seen the similarities? Already Robert could, and he'd only spent less than ten minutes combined with the hooded figure and the man named Oliver Queen.

_Hmmm…perhaps I should mention it_, he thought to himself, but then the detective suddenly slammed his fist against the desk and glared at the closed door, looking royally pissed off.

And that was when he realized.

_He _does_ suspect him…but he has no proof to hold him_, Robert silently concluded.

In that case, he would do and say nothing, and instead focus once more on the killer that was stalking the Starling City streets…even though it was now obvious to him that Detective Quentin Lance was fighting with his attraction to the one man who he was trying to put behind bars.

Well, it wouldn't hurt him to look into both things at the same time.

He had a job to do, after all.

* * *

**Part 4/?**


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

He was really getting sick of this. He'd been called in on a robbery, and they'd caught the guy not ten yards from the house, trying to steal someone's car. In the middle of the fucking day. He hadn't even resisted arrest, which was a rarity and nice, but at the same time, Lance wanted nothing more than to just have a day off.

It was great having Robert around, that was for sure, but he wanted to just take a day off so that he didn't have to do his job.

It was selfish, yes, but he felt that he deserved it.

Earlier that morning, after Queen had left, he and Robert had continued to work on the case, and then as people began to arrive, Robert had been sidelined as everyone was lining up to say hi to him, to say that they were glad to see him again, and even rookies who had never even met him were lining up to talk to him because of his infamy in the precinct's history.

During his mob, Quentin's mind had had time to wander and wonder, and, of course, it led him nowhere good. His thoughts, for some odd reason, seemed to think that they should be lingering on Oliver Queen; the man who had made him let down his guard earlier and actually had him relaxing around him, only to make him slam the walls back up when Queen had pushed it too far. The millionaire playboy was just impossible to deal with, and he knew it, yet he found himself looking forward to their meetings with some sort of sick pleasure.

Each time the two of them met, it was a chance to see if he could push the man, to see if he could make him snap…into confessing, of course, and providing proof of that confession. For no other reason than that…and yet, in the back of his mind, a voice that sounded suspiciously like Robert Banner seemed to whisper, _You _know _ that's not true, Quentin…you're hoping he might snap and do something else _entirely…

He ignored the voice and went back to booking the thief that they'd nabbed, attempting to fill out paperwork, and then looked back across the precinct at Robert, who was, once more, being inundated by cops.

Cops, his ass. They were behaving like teenage girls in front of one of their favorite hot, young celebrities.

Of course, who could blame them? The older British gentleman had definite charm and appeal, all the way from his impeccable manners to his sly looks from under his lashes.

And then Lance's eyes narrowed as he saw one of the younger officers, Officer Sanders, who he knew frequented a certain _special_ bar, approach the older man and begin to talk to him. Whatever he said to him had Robert giving him one of _those_ smiles…the one that started soft and then turned into a smirk at the corner of his mouth. It was utterly disarming and could level nearly _any_one at the knees, be it male or female.

Sanders then seemed to be stuttery, and then Robert just placed a hand on his shoulder and said something in return…

..and suddenly Quentin felt an elbow in his side.

He looked over and saw his partner looking him in the eye, obviously wondering what was keeping him distracted, but he just shook his head and went back to filling out the paperwork.

He kept his head low as he did, and, because of that, he was completely unaware and unhearing when Robert's phone rang…

* * *

Robert finished talking to the young Officer Sanders, sending off the well-intentioned young man with one of his infamous smiles, and then was surprised when he felt his phone vibrate in his coat pocket. He quickly answered it, as not many people had the number and he mostly only used it in emergencies.

"Hello?"

A low chuckle on the other end of the line.

"Hi, Robert. This is Oliver Queen, we met earlier today, and I was calling in the hopes that maybe we could get some dinner tomorrow night? You see, I don't think I made a good first impression, and I wanted to get to know the man who is so infamous in the history of our city's law enforcement."

Taken completely off guard, but finding himself insatiably curious about the man, he glanced around the precinct and then stepped out into the hallway and walked down it to the front door as he answered, "This is somewhat unexpected, but, of course, I would love to."

He could almost hear the other man grin over the phone.

"That's great…I was afraid you were going to say no, but it seems that Quen-I mean, Detective Lance, hasn't yet indoctrinated you with the usual 'Oliver-Queen-can't-be-trusted' speech. Good thing I acted quickly."

Robert chuckled, realizing that Queen had nearly called the detective by his first name, and then replied with, "Oh, I believe he tried to this morning, actually…"

Of course, he didn't mention the fact that the detective had been trying to warn him off the Vigilante, but now that Banner had heard the young man's voice a second time, he was fairly positive that the low scratchy voice that he'd heard on the roof belonged to one and the same person.

"Great. I'll pick you up from the precinct? Or, would you like to meet me somewhere else?"

Robert then realized what Queen was trying to do. Make the detective jealous, of course. As much as he was amused by the fact, he was subtly aware that it might not be a good idea to flaunt their dinner out in front of him.

Carefully, he said, "How about you meet me at my hotel? I'm staying at the Queen's Landing. I'm_ sure_ you know of it."

"Yep, sure do. Great. Then how about at six? Will that work for you?"

"Perfectly."

"Excellent. I'll see you then."

And with that, he hung up, feeling strangely as though he had taken a step into a world where things were going to no longer be as clear as he wanted them to be. And then he realized that Oliver Queen should _not_ have been able to get his number…how the _hell_ had he gotten his private cell phone number?

He put that onto the list of questions that were forming in his head about the young man, and then found himself grinning as he made his way back into the precinct.

He couldn't wait for tomorrow night…but then he caught sight of Quentin and he realized that he couldn't keep it from him.

Robert sighed, and resigned himself to that fact that he was not going to be the detective's favorite person for the next couple of days.

He stepped back over to the detective's desk just as the detective himself sat back down at it, and Robert sat on the edge, taking up what he now considered to be his usual position. Casually, he grabbed the open file from the top and moved it in his direction, giving a cursory glance over the photos, but not really paying attention to them.

He could tell that Quentin looked hassled, so he decided to gently bring it up.

"So…anything interesting about the burglary this morning?"

Quentin just grunted and shook his head and threw himself into the pages in front of him.

"Well, in that case," Robert said, trying to be as careful in his wording as was possible, "You might be interested to know that something interesting happened to me only a few moments ago…"

At this, Lance's eyes snapped up to the older man's and he seemed to almost glare at him. There was a look about him that seemed familiar, but he couldn't quite place it. It seemed…territorial, almost, or even jealous.

Quentin then turned his glare back to the papers and said, "Yeah, it have somethin' to do with Officer Ian Sanders?"

The poison in his tone was almost biting and _immediately_ Robert knew what the look was that he'd been giving him. It _was_ one of jealousy, and at realizing that, he felt a surge of affection for the younger man. It was nice to know that he could still be wanted and, well, sought after. Especially by him.

He gently corrected the detective's thoughts.

"No, actually…" Quentin relaxed, and Robert squared his shoulders to deliver the blow. "…I got a call from Oliver Queen." The tension in the younger man's shoulders returned, but Robert continued anyway, knowing that he had to get it over with.

"He's invited me to dinner tomorrow night and I have accepted."

At this, Quentin's eyes snapped back up and he leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms across his chest after shoving the files away from him across the desk.

"You're havin' dinner with Queen?"

"Yes."

There was a moment of awkward silence, and then Lance said, "Milk his money for all it's worth, then. Have him take you to Bellini's."

He looked up at his old friend and flashed him a bright, white smile…and Robert laughed.

"He's picking me up at six tomorrow night at my hotel. I assume that you have no problem with the arrangement, then?"

Quentin nodded.

"Nope. Like I said, just make him pay for everything and use up as much of his credit card as possible. That, alone, will keep me from thinking about the fact that you're practically going on a _date_ with the guy," he finished, leaning forward once more and dragging the files back to their previous position.

There was still a hint of jealousy, but Banner resigned himself to that fact. That was pretty much inevitable with him.

He would take what he could get for now.

And with that taken care of, he sat back down in a proper chair and began to help him put together what all they could on the case.

* * *

**Part 5/?**


End file.
